I Make Sure The Power's On
by Ninnik Nishukan
Summary: A collection of old 100-word Drakken/Shego drabbles based on word prompts. All from an abandoned drabble project from 2008. Edited slightly since then, but mainly the same. All unrelated and in no particular order. Most of these have never been properly published, but you may have seen some of them before.
1. Passing

**Sight.**

He couldn't move. All he could see was the ceiling; off-white, with a few cracks.

_Where's the nurse? It's TV time! I want my adjustable bed...adjusted!_

Shego's frustrated voice interrupted his thoughts: "I _told _you it was gonna blow up the lair, but did you listen? No! And_ now_ look at us!"

Delighted, he waited for another outburst, but she'd fallen asleep again.

Drakken sighed. It was going to be a _long_ three weeks in traction.

If he _really_ strained his eyes, though, he could _just_ see the dark shimmer of Shego's hair, and the sharp curve of her nose.

* * *

**Friends.**

"Loved your act, Drakken! Or should I say _Drew_?"

"Hey, maybe you could do an _encore_!"

"They're only _jealous_," Drakken muttered, but she noticed his jaw tightening as the other inmates jeered at him.

Shego let him walk off by himself to sulk. She'd see him later, anyway.

Sighing, she whirled around to face the tormentors, her smile cold. "So…you people like rapping, do you?"

Come dinnertime, nobody felt like joking anymore.

Drakken peered cautiously at the silent, sullen crowd, then at Shego. "What's going on…?"

"Guess they were just jealous after all, Doc," Shego said, looking self-content.

Drakken grinned.

* * *

**Teammates.**

"…I heard it was…what's-his-face…Drewken."

"Drakken."

"Right."

Drakken looked up from the funnel cakes, spotting a man and woman he didn't recognize.

Newbies.

"The…intercontinental whatcha-ma-callit? Shook the planet?"

"Sounds nuts enough for Drakken."

Drakken glared.

"Drakken _and _Shego. She's never far away."

"Why doesn't she go solo?"

The woman scoffed. "I heard she can't even beat that _cheerleader_!"

Drakken growled.

"_I'd_ hire Shego," the man mumbled; clearly the sidekick.

"I _bet_. Anyway, everybody knows they're washed-up. We'll show them _we_ can defeat Possible!"

_Humiliating Defeat for Newcomer Villain Duo_, the Middleton Examiner read on Monday.

Wade had received an anonymous tip.

* * *

**Spring.**

Apart from the attraction to evil, money, power and dramatic outfits, Shego considered, they didn't have that much in common.

She liked extreme sports and sunbathing; he liked karaoke and online chat rooms.

She preferred spicy food; he had a sweet tooth.

She liked her regular beauty sleep; he had the unhealthy sleeping habits of…well, a mad scientist.

But they both had a severe case of pollen allergy.

"You know, Dr. D…" Shego said thickly, as she watched Drakken blowing his nose for the millionth time that day, "…maybe building a lair at the North Pole _wasn't_ such bad idea…"

* * *

**Home.**

Drakken looked up. "What happened to _you_?"

Shego grimaced, pushing her wet hair aside, her feet leaving muddy tracks behind her.

"What _didn't_ happen to me? Did you know they had _lasers_ there? And _ninjas_? And I had to jump in the _river_ to get away—"

Before he knew it, she'd breached his personal space, leaning heavily against his shoulder.

"Um, Shego—"

"Make me tea," she groaned, exhausted.

Drakken scoffed. "What am I, a _butler_?"

"Tea. _Now_."

In the following silence, he felt her hair slowly dampening his coat.

Drakken sighed. "Let's get you some clean clothes first."

* * *

**Star.**

He'd invented a reward system.

The henchmen were eating it up, and at least she had to give him credit for figuring out how to manipulate them.

But when he tried applying it to _her_ as well, she'd had enough.

"Excellent work, Shego! Here's your gold star! Remember, _five_ gold stars will earn you—"

"I'm not one of your…_minions_, Doc! Keep your stupid gold stars!"

"No stars?" he asked, irritated. "Well…what _do_ you want?"

She bit her lip, hesitating.

_Call me your partner. I'm so tired of being the sidekick. _

"Nothing _you'll _ever figure out," she gritted, walking away.

* * *

**Passing.**

He could already hear them approaching behind, coughing and cursing. The smoke bomb— so cliché, but he'd brought it just in case— had only distracted them for a few seconds, but it had been enough.

He ran.

A green and black figure; he blinked at the pink, glowing shampoo running down her long hair, noticed the dazed expression—

For a second, his mind swam with all the power he'd suddenly been handed— she'd obey him, she wouldn't be lippy—

But only for a second.

Been there.

Never again.

"You need a shower," he murmured, dragging her along by her wrist.


	2. And

**And.**

Shego prided herself on being honest.

She didn't do sugarcoating.

"Hah! You actually think you're gonna beat us, don't you, Princess?"

_And I wish you weren't right __**every single time**__!_

"Congratulations, Dr. Drakken. You win the 'Dumbest Plan Ever' award."

_And I can't think up anything better. _

"Date? Us? No way. That's Twilight Zone material, Doc."

_And ask me again later. _

"Dr. D, this date stinks! I mean— _karaoke_ in _Vegas_? Your outfit looks like you just mugged Liberace!"

_And I'll kill you if you don't kiss me tonight._

Of course, that didn't mean she always told the _whole_ truth.

* * *

**Idiosyncrasies.**

"I _hate_ being stuck in traffic."

"We're stuck here because _somebody _didn't remember to install the rocket engines and wings on this stupid van like they were supposed to!"

A strained, sulky silence; Drakken refusing to admit that she was right.

Another minute went by as they waited for the line of cars to budge. Then Shego heard a low but nevertheless annoying sound starting up.

"Dr. D! You're humming! _Again_!"

"I'm bored! I can't help it!"

Shego grunted irritably, looking out the window.

Silence; then—

"_Stop_ drumming your fingers on the wheel, Shego! You _know_ it drives me nuts!"

* * *

**She.**

"I found this outside, Shego."

Looking curious, Drakken held out a letter.

_To Miss Go_, it said.

_Who the heck calls me Miss G— oh, right. _

She grunted. "Stevie must've dropped it when the dogs chased him."

"That ridiculous man…" Drakken muttered. "Wait…your last name is 'Go'? Does that make your first name 'She'?"

Shego slapped her forehead, groaning.

"Well, tell me what it _is_, then!"

"No."

"I bet _Stevie_ knows."

Shego hesitated— was that _jealousy_?

He was oozing wounded male pride, but was trying to _hide_ it. Usually, he really didn't.

Perplexed, she actually blurted out her name.

_Dammit...!_

* * *

**He.**

When he actually succeeded, there was something about him.

She could swear he was practically glowing; face flushed with glee, white grin almost blinding.

The victory _had_ been phenomenal. They'd basically _crushed _their opponents.

She knew he was pleased to get back at somebody who'd bested him so many times.

"Thought you'd beat us, huh, Dementor? Well, clearly you've underestimated me, Shego _and_ my henchmen! Hah! Dr. D _pities_ the fool who messes with my bowling team! Right, Shego?"

"...right, Dr. D."

She was horrified: Despite how geeky he was being, she realized she actually had to stifle a giggle.

* * *

**Circle.**

She found herself following her laundry's circular trek with her eyes, around and around…

_What a lame thing to be waxing philosophical about. _

The symbolism was tacky in its obviousness; her life was going in circles.

Weekdays: Help boss prepare plans. Get foiled by cheerleader.

Weekends: Spent alone.

Lather, rinse and repeat.

_Urgh…!_

The first problem seemed to be inevitable.

As for the other one…

She got up, leaving her laundry behind to discuss the weekend with the Doc.

The next laundry day saw green, blue and black garments swishing around together, tangling happily.

One out of two wasn't bad.

* * *

**Food.**

Alarms blared all across the lair.

He came running, frantic. "What is it? Kim Possible? _Girl scouts_?"

"Fire," Shego said calmly.

Smoke billowed from the kitchen; he ran inside.

"Noooo! Not my _pot roast_! Now there's nothing left for dinner! You _know_ you can't cook, Shego, why'd you have to—"

"Gee, Doc…guess now we have to _go out_ and eat."

On the verge of yelling at her about wasting time and money, Drakken caught sight of her expression…realizing what she was _actually_ saying.

"I kn-know this little Italian restaurant…" he heard himself stutter.

She grinned. "I'll get my coat."

* * *

**Club.**

They'd never gone out on a Saturday before.

It was always just 'Friday, karaoke night'.

This time, a particularly exhaustive scheme had stolen Friday night.

She'd been tired enough to stay at the lair instead of going away for the weekend like usual.

Somehow, they'd ended up at this club.

No karaoke tonight. Nobody felt like singing.

Just two disgruntled villains sharing a bottle of wine.

Pessimism first: Another defeat, awful music, yadda yadda.

But eventually, he mellowed out…until the atmosphere was almost relaxing and companionable.

Unusual. For them.

When he leaned on her, it felt friendly.

She didn't move.

* * *

**How?**

He tried to sit up in bed; tired, bruised, groaning.

_How did I get here?_

He looked down; pajamas, bandaged arm. On the nightstand; aspirin, water, some grapes…and a note.

_**Drakken,**_

**_Going back to the spa. Your charming sidekick did a number on my back._**

**_Shego_**

Chewing absentmindedly on a grape, he considered it all.

Being left in jail not once, but twice…having Shego stop his plans…and Warmonga, tossing Shego around like a rag doll while he mocked her.

Studying his bandages, Drakken sighed.

He didn't know how things would be when she got back, but now…they were finally even.


	3. Taste

**When?**

The first time she agrees to work late, he doesn't think much of it.

There's an important project to finish. There's overtime pay. End of story.

When he needs her to work on Saturday, he's mildly surprised when she agrees.

There's some grumbling, and she demands a weekend bonus, but she says yes.

When she agrees to spend an entire weekend on a plan they both know is doomed and that his synthodrones could've easily helped him with instead, and they spend more time bantering than actually working…that's when he knows that things are not like they used to be.

* * *

**Shapes.**

She'd finished her book, had lunch, filed her nails and the claws on her gloves, and now she was just…looking.

Their Caribbean lair had many strange, but appealing shapes. The twisted architecture of villainy.

High, cave-like ceilings, large metal beams with weird holes in them…the narrow mote full of green chemicals that snaked around the rooms...and that it was a wonder none of the henchmen had fallen into yet…

The material of Dr. D's lab coat moving across the broad shape of his back as he worked a wrench…

Clearing her throat, she went to…secure the perimeter or something.

* * *

**Summer.**

There was nothing to do.

Shego had insisted he should _test_ his outsourced doomsday devices before using them, to avoid another embarrassment.

So he'd put his scientist minions on the job.

Then she'd dragged him down to the beach.

Drakken hated volleyball and water skiing. The sand itched. The sunblock she'd made him use reeked.

He only wanted to get back to work.

Stretching like a cat in her skimpy, black bikini, Shego gave him a lazy grin. "Can't wait to see if you'll get little purple freckles in the sun…"

Well…seemed like he _had_ to stay now. For science.

* * *

**Why?**

"We could've done this _months_ ago if you'd only said yes the _first _time I asked you out—" Drakken began, gazing past the candlelight to where Shego was sitting, sipping at a glass of wine.

She only flashed one of those maddening, confidence-saturated smirks. "You were a total dork. Foot in mouth and all. I wanted to see if you could do better, and I knew you weren't going to stop trying."

"But— but _five months_, Shego!"

"Hey, at least now I know you're a keeper."

_Keeper_. That comment surprised him, his heart swelling. "Really?"

"We'll see."

He groaned.

* * *

**Birthday.**

"I _quit_! You ignored me all _week_, my paycheck's _late_, you_ didn't _tell me we're _changing lairs_— and now you've forgotten my _birthday_?"

No gifts; he hadn't even congratulated her.

Drakken struggled to explain, spluttering. She glared mercilessly, an unfamiliar, wounded look about her.

He couldn't_ tell _her why he'd_ really_ been so preoccupied lately.

But maybe…he could _show_ her.

With an adrenaline-fueled, ridiculously bold move.

She gaped at him when their lips parted. He released her, panting.

"Didn't mean to forget."

She stared until he squirmed.

"Sh-Shego?"

"Let's go shopping."

"What?"

Shego laughed. "It's called a second chance, Doc."

* * *

**Heart.**

Shego was dreaming.

He could tell; she was muttering, eyelids twitching.

He reached for his slippers.

"Wow, Dr. D…Possible's heart in a jar?" she snorted, rolling over on her side.

He shook his head at her evil dreams, grinning.

"Thanks, Doc, you shouldn't have…well, actually you _should've_! Mwahahaha…!" The laugh was slurred, yet wicked. "I'll put it on the mantelpiece, next to the card…"

Drakken frowned. Hearts? Cards? Why did that ring a bell?

He glanced at the calendar—

"Oh, doodles."

He ran.

Unless he got her _something_ before she woke up, it could be _his_ internal organs in formaldehyde.

* * *

**Taste.**

There are things he'd never expected to taste.

Coffee Shego made for him when he was working late. Even if she didn't have to.

The sweat of her palm silencing him as they lay huddled together in a ditch in awful, orange prison suits, hiding from GJ and Possible.

Dinner they'd made together. Bored, she'd hovered, pestering him; before he knew it, she was chopping vegetables.

Shego's cheeks.

Shego's lips.

Shego's tongue.

Shego's breasts.

Shego's…uh— well, he'd certainly never expected _that_.

Whenever she looks at him now, eyes soft, there are words she can't say.

He can almost taste them.

* * *

**Author's notes:** That was the last of the drabbles, kids. I hope you've enjoyed them.


End file.
